RISE
by RachelDemented
Summary: Angel makes the heart wrenching decision to sire Cordelia against Wesley and Gunn's wishes in a vain attempt to save her, and later restore her humanity. But will there be any hope for her afterall?
1. Broken

Rise

**:: Rise ::**

By [Rachel][1]

:: Rated R ::

Strong violence, blood, and a little bit of swearing.

Takes place anytime after Epiphany. Reflects scenarios back to BtVs.

Distribute wherever! And I appreciate feedback.

** **

Los Angeles. 

Midnight. 

Things were quiet on the street, but inside, Cordelia bustled with restless energy.__

She worked diligently, straightening up the small office she occupied with her three friends/business partners; filing papers away neatly and dusting the various places that needed to be dusted. She absentmindedly glanced at the clock. 

'Five after twelve,' Cordelia thought with a sigh. Still early for her bunch, but Cordelia found herself anticipating quitting time. She was looking forward to bed. 

She paused, leaning slightly against the desk with one hand, and with the other, she reached down to the sorer of her two feet, and pulled off her shoe. Wiggling her toes, she moaned. Her feet had never hurt so much, and so she slipped the other shoe off too. Eyeing the four-inch wooden heels of her Italian designer Florentines, she frowned and placed them carefully on the floor besides her desk. They were beautiful, expensive, designer shoes, but 'Sometimes it's just better to go flat,' Cordelia decided as she stretched her throbbing arches. She sighed wistfully as she in turn stretched her legs, and her back, and her shoulders, and her neck. 'Tomorrow,' She thought, 'I'll wear sneakers…or, just sit a lot.'

She yawned loudly, not bothering to cover her mouth as she was all alone. She looked down at her desk, covered in invoices and research materials and printouts from the Internet. She'd been shuffling through them for hours! Well, maybe not hours…more like one. Or…just forty-five minutes. All right, thirty minutes, tops, but it took a lot to keep all this paper mess up to date! And she was so bored! She hated doing it…even though it was _kind of_ her self-elected job…

_'She's always so good at the invoices,'_ Angel would shrug, coerced usually, whenever she'd argue with Wesley about going out to handle jobs and (demandingly) expected that Angel take her side. She often pointed out how much more valuable she was to them staying in the (safety of the) office, working diligently on paperwork (oh, paperwork…right) while they went out and fought the (big, scary, and often really smelly) demons.

Yes. She'd brought this down on herself, and Cordelia accepted that. And she'd do her paperwork…eventually. But right now, for some reason, waiting on the boys to get back from their hunt was just wearing her patience thin.

Cordelia sighed, closing her eyes, and attempted to rub her sore shoulder.

A loud crash from the backroom brought Cordelia back full attention. She glanced quickly at the front door. Noting it was still closed securely, she looked to the open doorway leading to the backroom. She listened hard, leaning slightly forward, anticipating even the slightest scratch… She swore she heard something shuffling back there…almost too faint to recognize… 

But no one else was supposed to be there.

Cordelia cautiously reached down to retrieve her shoes when another sound, a lower, almost, inaudible thump, made her freeze. The slightest snap, sounding too coincidentally like that of a creak of a floorboard, caused her heart to catch in her throat.

Forgetting the shoes, Cordelia quickly and silently stole across the floor on tiptoe toward the far wall. She moved carefully, balancing herself with her fingertips against the faintly textured walls; sure not to make a sound as she went. Inch by inch, she crossed the floor to the umbrella holder. She quietly lifted the solid wooden baseball bat, which she kept there so fittingly, for times just like this. She'd decided it a must-have for the office when she, Wesley, and Gunn had first started out on their own; out of the sanctity of Angel's hotel/safe haven, and away from his given, protecting hand. 

All the nights that one of them would be here, working late, alone… 

'Boy,' She thought glancing down at the bat. She was glad she had it now.

Cordelia held the bat slightly over her right shoulder, readying it in a swinging stance, and then ventured forth. Her breathing shallowed and she focused her ears intently, straining to pick up on even the slightest graze of a hair there in the backroom. She stepped carefully, one foot over the other, trying her darndest to avoid any lose or weathered floorboards as she approached the open doorway and brought herself directly into harm's way. She had a quick second thought of just bolting for the door and running, but her curiosity, and more importantly, the annoyance of being chased out of her own place, made her keep going.

She held the bat steadily, raising it a little higher, and tightened her grip on it. Pausing just millimeters from the entrance, Cordelia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It was meant to calm her. But then she started arguing with herself over whether or not she actually had the courage to do this. She then realized that she _was_ doing this, and finally, convincing herself that she was ready to take off a head if she had to, decided that a 'swing now, ask questions later' motto would be her safest bet.

A split second passed, and with a slight squeal, Cordelia plunged into the room.

She was surprised when nothing attacked her. 

She was surprised when there was _nothing._

She surveyed the surroundings and found not a thing out of place or a mouse to blame for it. She even did a double take, not quite trusting her eyes, but found the room completely empty and completely still. No one was here, and she'd reacted like a complete idiot, grabbing her baseball bat, and creeping to the door…

Cordelia started to feel silly, but then a slight noise turned her attention back to the front office. She stepped back into it and glanced around.

Again, nothing.

No longer hesitating in her movements, Cordelia shot across the room. She nearly pressed her face into the glass looking out the front door into the street. She silently reprimanded herself, telling herself to get a grip as she sought through the shadows, peering very carefully through the dusty soft light of the faint glowing street lamps to find nothing. The street was quiet and dark…desolate and deserted…and she exhaled.

She'd only lowered the bat for a second in order to lock the door… 

She hadn't even realized she'd dropped it until it hit the floor with a loud thwack. She was spinning around, flinching and jumping back, all in one fluid reaction. But he had come from the dark so quickly; practically materializing out of thin air as he rushed her, and it had surprised the hell out of her… 

He was too damned fast and Cordelia couldn't avert Lindsey McDonald's attack.

He grabbed her by the throat and squeezed. She clawed at his left hand, holding her tightly as she coughed and choked and struggled. Lindsey shoved her back against the glass door and raised his artificial right hand. He slammed it across her face, then lifted her from her feet, and threw her across the room with amazing agility. Cordelia barely had time to register it before she hit her desk, getting the wind knocked out of her.

She crashed down on top of her desk and slid, nails digging wildly into its polished wood surface as she frantically tried to steady herself before inevitably plummeting over its edge. She hit the floor; a barrage of paperwork following as it rained down on top of her, followed by spilt pencils and paperclips, and a really heavy paperweight. The lamp crashed down, but Cordelia moved to the left just in time, narrowly escaping it as it shattered and the room was plunged into near total darkness. 

She rolled onto her hands and knees and made an attempt to scramble away but he was already behind her, grabbing her and pulling her back by her hair. He lifted her again and shoved her into the wall.

"STOP!" She screamed when she could finally find her voice. With his fingers still entwined in her hair, he smiled, shaking his head and raising his brow in mock sympathy. He spun her around and threw her into the corner as hard as he could.

The drywall broke, and she fell; powdery bits of it sprinkled down onto her hair and clothes. She landed in a heap, blood gushing from her mouth, as her chin struck the hardwood floor. She hesitated, rising slowly on her hands, trying to think straight but without much success.

She'd been dazed, and her head was spinning and her body was going into shock from the beating. She would've screamed out just then but she barely had time to register that he was kneeling down beside her. She didn't quite register the danger she was in. All she understood was the slow throb of a really bad headache starting to overwhelm her.

Cordelia was so dazed that it took her a moment to remember what had just happened. As she started to clutch her head, she'd almost thought she'd just been having another vision.

A really bad one.

"He's gonna pay," Lindsey snarled. 

Cordelia flinched at the sound of his voice. She tensed, and recoiled, but he reached out, grabbing her chin forcefully, and yanked her back towards him. She cried out in pain, and he slapped her hard. She slumped into the wall; reeling from the sting, and feeling faint. 

Passing out…passing out sounded good right about now, but then she felt his fingers prodding her cheek and his callous touch was enough to rock her back into reality. She shoved him away, and was finally able to focus her sight again. Her eyes went wide as she stared into his eyes. 

He was seething. With rage. And she saw a demon boiling before her. She was face to face with him, and he grinned, then did something completely unexpected: he vamped out. 

_ _

_"You're a vampire?"_She caught herself saying. Cordelia shook her head in utter confusion, and just stared at him helplessly.

"He took her!" He retorted, voice angry, and hoarse. He ran his fingers across her cheek and into her hair. She shuddered, but he kept coming closer. "He took her from me, and now, he deserves to lose something…" He leered, showing his fangs, and running his artificial hand over her lips, he pulled away with her blood. He could smell her fear. He could taste it, and he anticipated it. He wanted it, and he reveled in it. He was eager to sheath himself in it.

The more she struggled, the more he enjoyed it. And lord, did Lindsey want her to struggle.

"Oh, god." She whimpered.

"God can't save you…not from me,"

"God, no! Please!"

He snickered.

Cordelia thought he was going to hit her again. She withdrew, as much as she could, cowering against the wall; his good hand still clamped in her hair. She started to shake in denial, and tried to turn away. But he tightened his hold on a fist full of hair at the back of her skull and twisted it so that it forced her face up to his. He paused, sniffing the air, and slowly, deliberately, came forward to lick the blood from the curve of her jaw. A slow line of dark red blood ran down her chin and dripped onto her chest, sliding down the mound of her cleavage and disappearing somewhere below the dark green tank top she wore. _Lindsey imagined it sliding lower, slipping down her soft, hot flesh…_

He was finding it ever so hard to control himself. 

Tears spilt out of her eyes as she looked up at him wildly. She could feel his hot, foul breath stir against the cold sweat of her skin. He smiled slowly, caressing the hair aside from her face and listened while her heart raced over a million beats per second. He beamed down at her and suddenly her blood ran cold as she finally realized what he had meant to do. 

"Don't!" She begged, twisting away fruitlessly. "Please don't!"

"Be still, and I promise, I'll be gentle,"

"God, Lindsay! No! No, please! No!"

"Come on, _Mizz_ Chase…" He purred. The frown slowly melted away, and a cold, scorn showed through. He bared his teeth, lowered his mouth to her ear, and sinfully whispered, "I promise, you'll love it."

She barely blinked.

He snapped her head back and bit down hard into her throat. Cordelia lurched, a searing pain shooting down through her, hitting her core and passing through, racking her body in a way she'd never felt before. His fangs dug deep into her muscle tissue and she cried out in empty silence. There was no more breath in her to scream with; nothing left to speak, to whimper, or even to pray. She couldn't make a sound. And scarier yet, as overwhelming as the pain was, and was till growing, she felt herself falling into paralysis. It swept over her; a cold, burning fire sliding through her limbs, reaching all the way out into her fingers and toes...and with it bringing the most adamant fear of complete and total helplessness.

God, she wanted to fight! 

But she couldn't. 

She was struggling just to think. It was like her thoughts were being torn from her mind, and pieces of reality were starting to slip away. She tried to hold on, but her body had started to go numb…a blessing, really, though even if it hadn't, the pain had become too unbearable for her body to even comprehend. And now her vision was going gray, and the only thing left that she could understand were the sounds coming from him as he swallowed…

He was swallowing her. Sucking, drinking, downing her blood in fatal quantities. And the sound was awful.

It was cruel. She had to sit and listen as he killed her. But even that started to give way to the sounds of her own body. The blood rushing through her ears…it grew deafening. It drowned out any sound that he could make. And soon, that was replaced with the heavy white noise of nothingness. 

But then she realized she couldn't sense him anymore.

_She felt like she was about to disappear._

Her heart was about to stop. 

Lindsey pulled back, and he had to force himself to maintain control. He'd dug in…enjoyed it a little too much for what he'd meant to do. There should have only been two deep and thin puncture wounds, but the twin wounds over her neck and shoulder were torn. And though she'd been nearly sucked clean, through the last of her blood he could see the shards of flesh and muscle, and faintly, deeply, a shard of white.

He'd hit bone.

He let her drop to the floor, her body limp and lifeless like a rag doll, eyes wide and stricken, dazed and staring up at nothing.

Lindsey sat up on his knees, hissing in disgust. He thought back to Darla, imagining how she had gone through this, twice now, during her long and tortured life in this ill-fated existence. 

And how, barely twenty-four hours ago, he'd gone through it himself.

And now, how this girl had also had to bear it.

Even a demon, he could still sympathize. 

And he'd make up for the pain… Oh yes, and then some. And then she'd thank him for it. And then she'd reward him. And then she'd wreak havoc of her own…

He ripped open his shirt, spilling buttons in all directions. He tore down his white, cotton undershirt, partially stained with her blood, and raked a long, clawed finger across his chest. A line of thick redness oozed out from between the opening of the wound; sliced perfectly even. _Except for the blood you wouldn't be able to tell it was there_. 

He smiled then; revealing the sharp, silver gleam of his fang. He remembered the specific instructions he'd been given, and then he reached for the collapsed girl.

He lifted her gently, cradling her head with his shoulder as his artificial hand supported her back. With his good hand he guided her face, and brought it up to meet his. He licked the rest of the blood from her mouth, and then held her away, taking a moment to quell his rebuilding hunger. He looked down at her, into her wide and vacant, innocent, hazel eyes.

"I know you can hear me," He said, his voice completely steady. "On some level, you can hear me. So hear this…" Lindsey forced her lips to his wound. "He took her from me. And now I'm taking you from him."

He was trying to steady her mouth against his chest…it was harder than he'd thought it'd be…when three pair of distinct footsteps got his attention. 

_It was amazing how enhanced his senses had become._

_ _

Lindsey looked up quickly to find a familiar figure come up just outside the glass front door, two others behind him; all three unaware of what was going on inside. He hissed silently and pressed Cordelia's face into him urgently. They'd come back too soon…

Angel pushed on the door.

"It's locked," He said, almost quizzically to Gunn and Wesley.

"Maybe Cordy had to go out," Gunn suggested. Wesley started digging through his pocket for the key. Angel shrugged, then turning back towards the window, suddenly froze. Wesley withdrew the key. 

"Found it!" He announced. That same second, Angel punched his whole arm through the glass. 

He didn't hesitate as huge shards fell around him. He launched through the shattered glass door, leaving Wesley and Gunn to stand flabbergasted on the sidewalk. 

"I said I'd found it!" Wesley cried.

Lindsey turned his head to confront his adversary, and Angel rushed him in a rage. Stray thoughts passed through his head, but he didn't pay attention at first… 

_What was Lindsey doing here?_

_And why had he'd destroyed the office?_

_And why'd he suddenly have fangs?_

_And where…where was Cordelia?_

Angel halted.

His eyes moved over her still form, hanging limply in Lindsay's grasp. It took him a second to even realize it was her…but suddenly, it all hit him, and he understood.

"Cordelia!" He gasped.

Lindsey dropped her, rising to his feet. He'd decided to take advantage of Angel's shock. 

He'd really wanted to turn her…he'd really wanted to see Angel's face when it happened… But Gunn and Wesley were entering the office now, rambling off questions, blind in the dark. And Lindsey saw Angel, eyes still glued to his friend on the floor, reaching quickly beneath his coat. 

Lindsay thought better of standing around and waiting for the fight; he took two steps and fled. Wesley had begun to fumble with his own desk lamp, and as the light flicked on, the mortals in the room froze, eyes going wide. 

There was a split second of total silence.

Angel's half withdrawn sword fell to the floor with a clang; the harsh grate of the metal hitting the floor finally tearing them from their daze.

"Oh my god!" Wesley exclaimed. Gunn could only stumble. But Angel was already at her side.

"Cordelia," He said, his voice beginning to tremble with intensity. He lifted her up, and her head lolled back, revealing the damage to her neck. "Cordelia…CORDELIA!"

She didn't respond.

The blood that had pooled in the wound had started to run down. A few droplets fell astray, splashing in little red dots on the hardwood floor as Angel felt himself shaking her.

He heard each drop hit the floor like a bomb going off. He looked into Cordelia's eyes and saw the last glimmer of life start to dim. He pulled her closer, listening to the last few movements as her heart started to stall. He heard Gunn and Wesley scrambling across the littered floor, both shouting in urgency. They slid to their knees on either side of him, one yelling at the other to call 911. He started to shake his head. He said something. He mumbled. But they didn't hear him. "There's nothing we can do," he said. But…they didn't hear him.

Wesley had pushed his hands down on the punctures in her throat, screaming that they had to do something to stop the bleeding. Gunn was screaming that they had to do CPR. Angel blinked, and raising his eyes from Cordelia's, he closed them, and shook his head.

Wesley grabbed the leather sleeve of his jacket, and started tugging helplessly at him. "Angel! We have to do something!"

Gunn pulled at her arms and felt no pulse. "Is—is she dead???" He asked, frantic.

"She's not dead!" Wesley hissed. "If we can get her to the hospital—!"

"I don't think we can make it to the hospital!"

"We have to make it to the hospital!"

Angel didn't hear them anymore. He choked back tears as he looked her up and down. He felt the last tick of her heart start to fade, 

There was nothing they could do…

Nothing theycould do…

Nothing_ they _could do…

Angel snarled a growl that sent both his friends spinning back in surprise. Snapping his head back, and coming forward wearing his game face, he raised his wrist to his mouth, pushing back his sleeve with his teeth, and bit down hard into his skin. It gushed blood, and he reached forward again, pulling the lifeless girl into his lap.

What he was doing… There had been no choice, _not even time for a choice_. 

Angel held her jaw steady in his free hand, forcing her mouth open, and then pressed his gushing wound to her lips. Before Wesley or Gunn could do or say anything, he was tilting her head back, forcing the liquid down and using his fingers to make her swallow. Tears stung at his eyes, but he kept it up. He shoved Gunn off first, then Wesley, as they attempted to make him stop. And he ignored their screams as they begged him not to do it and threatened to stake him in the back.

And then it was done.

His blood was in her. And he could hear it absorbing into her body. It welcomed it; drank it up greedily…accepted it. _A dying body was always eager for new life, even this kind..._ Angel sat back on his heels, still cradling her head in his hands, the bite on his wrist still bleeding but already starting to heal. The blood had started to cake on his sleeve.

His game face fell away, and it was his human face that sat staring down at her. He stared down into her eyes; waiting, witnessing, as a spark of something new, something unnatural…began to brew. As much as he wanted to stop, as much shame as it had caused him to watch, he couldn't look away. 

He owed it to her not to. He'd done it to her, and so he couldn't let her down. 

Angel clutched Cordelia to him, holding her tight. Even when Wesley and Gunn, forgetting their attempts to languish him, fell silent and crawled most fearfully to sit beside him, Angel just held her and rocked her. He couldn't let her go.

"She wont be evil," Angel swore, quickly dropping Cordelia's body down onto his bed. 

After sitting in an unsettling silence for far too long, the three of them had snapped into action and gotten Cordelia out of there. They brought her back to the Hotel in Angel's car. Wesley had tried to take Cordelia from Angel when they got into the vehicle, but Angel had refused. He sat in the back seat with her, cradling her the whole way while Wesley sat up front, arguing profusely about what they were going to do now. Gunn had drove. It'd taken them only a few minutes to get home.

"And just how in the hell can we stop her!" Wesley demanded angrily. Gunn lingered near the open door. For the first time in a long time, being with his crew he felt in over his head. He stayed back, out of the way, only half paying attention to the escalating tension; the other part of him was fixated on the body of his friend, now lying very still on the bed.

"She won't, Wesley!" Angel barked. "I wont let her be evil!" He began stalking circles in the room, rubbing his temples with his fingers, alluding a headache that he only imagined was there.

"YOU'VE TURNED HER INTO A BLOODY VAMPIRE!" Wesley screamed. "OF COURSE SHE'S GOING TO BE EVIL!"

"Just shut up, Wesley!" Angel hissed. "Just…just SHUT UP! Okay!"

"I wont shut up, Angel! I wont!" He stalked up to the souled vampire and made a blatant attempt to get in his face. "You damned her, Angel! You damned her! By the next nightfall, she is going to wake up a seething, hungry curse against mankind! She's not going to have a soul! She's not going to be able to be talked out of her one true instinct, to kill! And… And…AND SHE'S NOT GOING TO BE CORDELIA ANYMORE, do you understand that??? She's not going to be Cordelia Chase! She's not going to be our friend! SHE'S GOING TO BE A BLOOD SUCKING, EVIL VAMPIRE! ANGEL! DO YOU EVEN REALIZE WHAT YOU'VE DONE???"

"Yes!" Angel cried out, pushing himself away. Wesley glared angrily as Angel turned his eyes back to the body. "Yes! Okay?" He sounded desperate. "I know what I did, Wesley! But I had to, I couldn't let her go! I…I…I couldn't let her go…"

"You most certainly could have," Wesley bit, coming up to stand besides him. He looked down at Cordy, too, his eyes welling with tears. "Angel, look at her! She's dead. She's dead, for Christ's sakes! OH, HELL! We'd might as well stake her now! We'll have to do it eventually…and she can't wake up—"

"I can't do that!" Gunn blurted out, rushing up to them and making himself be heard. Angel flinched away. Wesley looked over at him regretfully, and Gunn started to shake his head, nightmares of his sister coming back in a rush. He looked down at Cordelia, then back at Wesley and Angel, then down at Cordelia again, and then back to Angel. "Angel, man…I can't go through all that again. I can't…We just can't let her wake up like that…and then kill her! We can't let her become that! We can't do that to Cordy!"

"Gunn," Wesley tried, though his own voice already shook with emotion. He took off his glasses and rubbed his weary eyes. It was time to buck up. Time to face the situation. He realized his fight with Angel was pointless, and he remembered they were not the only two people affected by this. He turned from the Vampire and tried to help Gunn. "Gunn… We need to be…we need to remain calm now,"

"Calm?" Gunn shot. "CALM??? HOW IN THE HELL DO YOU SUPPOSE WE DO THAT!"

"I don't know, but we have to keep our heads,"

"We have to keep _our _heads…while taking _hers!_ We have to drive a stake through our best friend's heart, all thanks to this guy over here!" He pointed to Angel. "And WE'RE SUPPOSED TO STAY CALM??? Maybe Angel here can stay calm! Maybe big Mr. Ex-Watcher can stay calm! But me…Calm??? _CALM_ isn't even a word I'd begin to start using right now! No, _calm_ isn't an option!"

Angel turned away from the pair and stared emptily at the wall, his mind racing.

_Humanity._

That one word was the key to so many things. Angel steadied himself against the dresser, overcome with memories. He hadn't been thinking clearly when he'd bled himself to keep her with them, but he had been thinking something. He knew there was some hope…something to cling to… He wouldn't have acted out of just sheer desperation alone.

He turned back to the body and went forward to sit on the bed beside her. He leaned down over her, placing his ear over the place where her now still, dead heart lay inside of her. He closed his eyes in anguish and bit down on his lip. He rose back, opening his eyes, and then looked down at her still face.

That power was still building within her, and in less than a day, she would rise a child of darkness. He didn't want that for her. And he wouldn't let her go on that way. 

Angel traced his finger over the dried blood on her cheek. This time when tears brimmed, he couldn't stop them, and one slid out, slowly down his face. He quickly ignored it, and using his thumb, wiped away some of the smudges from her mouth. He reached out, smoothing her hair aside, and then quickly touching his fingers to her eyelids, brought them closed, shielding her eyes from the world.

By the time they noticed what he was doing, Angel was turning back to Wes and Gunn, and wiping his face, he begged them for their help.

"I'll call Giles right away," Wesley said as the three of them descended the grand staircase towards the lobby floor. Wesley led, Gunn following, and Angel trailed behind in a serene silence. "I'll ask him not to tell the others, we don't want to draw any attention…" They reached the bottom floor and Wes started towards the phone. "Who knows what the Watcher's Council would do if they found out." Wesley said, picking up the phone to dial.

"Two souled vamps," Gunn thought aloud. "I don't guess they'd think it was very appropriate,"

"She wont be souled, she'll be human," Angel interjected. Wes and Gunn gave him an apathetic glance, knowing all too well that the odds were stacked highly against them.

"Angel…you know that may not be possible," Wes paused, resting the phone against his shoulder. Angel shook his head.

"I've got some information…" He dwindled. Wes watched him expectantly. Angel looked away. "Just get Giles here, and I'll tell you everything. For now, we need to research every text that we have. We've got to get all the details, know all the possibilities… We've got to research." He went quickly towards the bookshelves, and started picking out books two or three at a time.

"Go help him, Gunn," Wesley said quietly. Gunn nodded and obliged. Wes took up the phone again and dialed his old colleague. 

It was nearly One AM.

Giles was startled by the ringing of the telephone. He'd just gotten to sleep, early for once, and he sat up reluctantly, propping himself against his pillows as he tried to regather his still sleeping wits. He switched on the lamp on his nightstand, blinking his eyes against its harsh, bright glare, and picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" He mumbled hoarsely. His brow wrinkled in confusion at the sound of Wesley's voice on the other end. He glanced at the clock and rubbed his eyes. "Wesley, what could be so important at this hour—"

His eyes widened in surprise. He held his breath as he listened to the hurried story. He gasped, swinging his legs over the side of the bed, now fully alert, and quickly understanding the dire situation being presented to him. "Yes, yes, of course." He answered. "Certainly… My god… Of course, of course I'll come…Right away, Wesley. Let me get a pen…" Giles looked around quickly for a pen. He found one, and a piece of scratch paper, and he quickly took down directions. "No…I wont tell anyone…Yes…Yes…I'll leave shortly…I'll bring every piece of text I have. Expect me there before dawn."

With that he hung up.

He stood quickly, in complete disregard to his disarrayed sheets, and went out to the den where he quickly grabbed his books. Within twenty minutes Giles had transported nine boxes of text to his car. He dressed quickly, tossing some spare clothing into a bag, grabbed some toiletries, and left.

It was on the road leaving Sunnydale that he'd contemplated his promise.

The others. They'd be suspicious; him leaving at such a strange hour in the middle of the night… He really should have left them at least a note.

When he got to L.A., he'd call them and let them know not to worry; that he'd had to leave for a few days, but he'd be back soon. 

The hard part would be coming up with a plausible excuse.

When he called, no way would The Scooby Gang let him off with a quick explanation. He'd be uming and erring, and they'd catch on very quickly that something was immensely wrong. And he wouldn't be able to tell them a thing. He'd promised Wesley he wouldn't. But he knew they were going to question him…

'Oh why couldn't I have just left a note?' He asked himself and sighed. 

He passed a road sign. Two more hours till Los Angeles…

   [1]: mailto:rachelpeek@excite.com



	2. Bound

**:: Rise ::**

By [Rachel][1]

:: Rated R ::

Strong violence, blood, and a little bit of swearing.

Takes place anytime after Epiphany. Reflects scenarios back to BtVs.

Distribute wherever! And I appreciate feedback.

** **

A little after 3 am, there was a loud knock on the front door of the hotel. Angel, Wesley and Gunn looked up, and Wesley quickly rose from his seat to answer it. Angel rose slower and followed a few steps behind. He hung back, not quite sure what to say when he finally saw Buffy's longtime watcher; and under these circumstances none the less. He admitted to himself, he was nervous.

"Thank you for coming," Wesley said, shaking his elder's hand.

"Yes, yes of course," Giles said. He stepped inside and Wesley locked the door behind him. 

"I'd like you to meet Charles Gunn," Wesley gestured towards Gunn who had moved to stand beside him.

"Friends call me Gunn," Gunn said reaching out a hand. "And thanks for coming."

"I wish we could be meeting under different circumstances," Giles said as they shook. He glanced around, slightly awed at the sheer size of the place. But he had more important things on his mind then idle chitchat. "Where is she?" He asked.

"She's upstairs." Angel answered quietly, crossing his arms and standing at a distance. Giles turned and stared at him.

"Can I see her?"

Angel unlocked his bedroom door, slipping the key back into his pocket. He hesitated slightly, closing his eyes against the grain of the wood. It was only a split second and so they didn't notice. He opened his eyes again and then opened the door. He stepped inside, and turned on a light. Giles came forth slowly, Wesley and Gunn at his back. Angel stepped to the side, folding his arms and watching the Watcher. Giles walked slowly towards the bed.

"She's truly changing?" 

He asked it as if he didn't expect an answer. Giles walked around to the side of the bed, and carefully sat down beside Cordelia's body, shaking his head sadly and rubbing his tired face.

"She'll rise." Angel confirmed quietly from the shadows. Giles sighed and looked down over her body. He reached out, touching the coolness of her skin, then gently tilted her head to the side to stare at the wounds on her neck. He frowned. The attack against her, it'd been brutal.

"What happened…exactly?"

"Lindsey McDonald." Angel came closer into the light, arms still tightly wrapped about himself. He fidgeted. Giles looked up at him expectantly, waiting for the rest.

"Well?" He prompted when Angel didn't answer.

"He attacked her in our office," Wesley said softly.

"So…this Lindsey, he sired her?"

Wesley looked hesitantly towards Angel. Angel's downcast eyes burned into the floor. Wesley wasn't sure if he should go on. He started to open his mouth but then quickly closed it again. Angel would have to admit it on his own…

"No," Angel finally answered raising his gaze. "I did."

Giles gasped

"What did you say?" He asked breathlessly getting up from the bed.

"I sired her." Angel responded in almost a whisper. Giles quickly crossed the floor.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL DO YOU MEAN, YOU SIRED HER!"

He shoved Angel back. Angel steadied himself but wouldn't look the watcher in the eye. Giles approached him again. Wesley and Gunn tried to intervene. 

"What on earth were you thinking!" Giles demanded of him, glancing back to the dead girl on the bed. Wesley stood between the two men, talking quickly, explaining the events of the evening to Giles as thoroughly as he could muster, all the while trying to calm his outrage, and even, against his own logic, explain Angel's intentions. "This is madness!" Giles shouted, now stalking the floor in angry circles. Angel stood quietly. "I mean, REALLY! How…how…WHAT were you thinking!" He shook his head. "You…! YOU…! I can't even begin to imagine…!"

"I have to tell you something," Angel said. His words came out so softly and so low that Giles hadn't really heard him. It was only when Wesley and Gunn had to stop and stare that he stilled his pacing and took notice of the Vampire again. Angel cleared his throat. He raised his eyes and looked directly at Giles. "Giles…I have to tell you something. But you have to promise that it will never leave this room." He glanced at the other two men. "Wes, Gunn…after this is over, we never talk about this again,"

"Angel…What is it?" Wesley asked, mouth agape as he stepped towards his friend.

Angel looked hesitantly between the three of them. Wesley reluctantly nodded, as did Giles, and Gunn folded his arms.

"Understood. So go."

Angel nodded slightly in appreciation. He started to pace nervously. "I…I was human once." He said. He paused, waiting for a reaction.

Wesley, Gunn and Giles looked to one another and shrugged.

"We know that," Wesley said uneasily. "You were born human—"

"No." Angel stopped him. 

_Wesley didn't understand what he meant._ Angel sighed, closing his eyes, gathering the courage for what he was about to divulge. He opened his eyes with a new air of determination, and facing down his fear, decided to just say it. "Wesley…after I'd been sired…I became human, once."

Silence.

"I'm afraid I don't understand!" Wesley finally exclaimed, gawking and staring at him sideways, his mouth hanging open with his frustration.

"Maybe you should explain," Giles gaped.

"What are you talking about?" Gunn said very slowly. 

Angel cringed, grabbing his temples and groaned. He started to pace faster, his movement almost feverish. "I was human for a day!" He nearly shouted. It was hard to let go of such a painful secret; one that he'd been holding in for so long. He'd almost made himself forget about it, but now, having to bring it all up and rehash it, _though for the best of causes_…finally able to release it, it was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to face. Angel felt himself grow sick, if that was even possible, and he clutched his stomach, feeling almost faint. He choked down imaginary bile and went on. "It was…it was last year. I'd been in a battle against a Morha demon. During the fight, his blood somehow mixed with my own, and it…it somehow…it gave me my humanity back. It was so strange… Buffy came, down from Sunnydale. We spent the day together…like two normal people…"

He continued, divulging the rest of his story to the astonished ears of his friends.

He explained everything; from what he'd gone through, to what he'd gotten to share with Buffy, that one day that seemed so long ago like a dream; how he'd lived that day, and how it had ended…

And when Wesley gave him his most absolute look of confusion, Angel explained why he'd given it all up: To save her.

Wesley was shocked. Speechless. He slumped down on the bed, steadying himself against the footboard. Gunn had been listening intently; his eyes wide and his face changing with his emotions as he listened to this incredible tale. Giles was silent, not making a sound until long after Angel's tale; that of the Erased Day; had come to an end.

But once it all sank it, the wheels in their heads started to spin with the news, and they suddenly comprehended the revelation of what it could mean.

"Angel…" Wesley said most gravely, but then didn't finish.

Angel looked down at Cordelia; dead now, yet far more alive than she'd ever been in life, as she lay there, in silent surrender to her transformation. Angel felt himself growing eager in anticipation of her waking. 

He closed his eyes.

If there were anyway to save her, he would do it. He wouldn't give up, no matter how slim the chances… 

'No.' He vowed to himself. 'No…' 

He'd get her humanity back if it killed him.

"So we just have to get some of that Mohra's blood and she'll be human again?" Gunn asked.

"It may be more complicated than that," Giles said wearily, taking off his glasses and cleaning them with his handkerchief.

"Angel had a soul when it happened," Wesley finished for him. "Cordelia wont have hers…"

"Unless we give it to her."

"…so we can't mix her blood and expect the same results, necessarily,"

"It may be a huge mistake,"

"A disaster, really,"

"To give her back humanity—"

"Without her soul?" Gunn finished.

The two of them nodded.

"So we just need to get her soul back first then," Gunn said, feeling a slight relief wash through him. "That should be easy. Angel got his back after all, right?"

Wesley and Giles gave him an uneasy look.

"Well, I wouldn't call it easy," Wesley said.

"But it can be done, right?"

"We don't know…only one Vampire has been prophesized—"

"Screw prophecy!" Gunn snapped. "This is for Cordelia!"

"Well, yes! I agree, but, we have to find a ritual, something powerful enough… You know, it was a gypsy who laid that curse on Angel,"

Giles cleared his throat.

"What?" Wes and Gunn asked in unison.

Giles took a few steps around Wesley's desk and slumped down in the seat. He smiled to himself and then, toying with the page of a book on the desk, said,

"I happen to know someone who performed just such a spell…"

Wesley's eyes went wide for the twentieth time that night. He stepped forward.

"WHO!"

"Willow."

"Willow?"  
"Yes."

"When!"

"When Buffy sent Angel to hell…during the ritual of Acathla."

"Whoa! Whoa! Wait!" Gunn said. "This girl, Willow…she got Angel his soul back and then they sent him to hell? That's cold."

"Well, they didn't mean to," Giles said, slighted by his lack of knowledge.

"Willow was trying to save him?" Wesley asked.

"Yes," Giles sighed. "But we had no way to know if the spell would work…and by the time the transference changed…"

"It was too late."

"Yes, sadly."

Wesley shook his head sadly. "There's far too many tragedies involved in this line of work."

"Agreed."

"So let's just call this girl, Willow." Gunn suggested.

"NO." Wesley shook his head.

"Why not?"

"No…Angel doesn't want to get them involved. And I have to agree with him. We know it can be done, we just need a way to do it ourselves."

"That may be near impossible." Giles said.

"But, we must at least try on our own…" Wesley walked a few steps away, thinking quickly. "We must at least attempt…Angel as prepared to deal with Cordelia when she wakes, as a demon, and he is prepared to hold her until we are prepared to help her. We can spend the day trying…if we find nothing—"

"Then we can call Willow."

"Yes, but not Buffy. Under no circumstances do I want her here. Or any of the others. Just Willow."

"Understood."

"But do you think she'd agree?"

Giles thought back to the relationship Willow and Cordelia had had in Sunnydale… If that was all there was he might say no. But Willow was a caring, giving person, and then the relationship that the girls had, and most unexpectedly, developed _online_ of all ways in the last two years… He smiled slightly, as much as he could smile in such dire circumstances, and nodded. "Most certainly."

"Well lets get crackin'," Gunn said eagerly.

Just then Angel came bounding down the stairs of the hotel. After spending a few needed solitary moments on the roof, he was ready to deal with this thing…and prepared to see it through.

Wesley quickly whispered, "Don't tell him about Willow just yet." Both nodded in agreement.

Angel walked up.

"We're ready." Wesley said, speaking in turn for the whole group. Angel nodded, and the four of them sat down, and page after page after page, attempted to read every piece of text they had between them. It would prove to be a long, grueling process.

Sometime around nine am, Giles called and left a message for Buffy and the gang. Luckily, the machine had answered, so he was able to quickly ramble off a mostly incoherent message about him having to leave for a few days to pick up some things from a supplier for The Magic Box. It was lame, he knew, but he sighed in relief as he hung up the phone, unscathed and unquestioned, and got back to researching.

"We need a break," Giles said finally when he glanced up at the clock and realized that it was after two o'clock in the afternoon.

"THANK GOD," Gunn sighed, stretching his legs and leaning back in his chair. "I'm so tired…all the words are running together."

"We should probably eat something," Wesley mumbled, taking off his glasses and rubbing his eyes. He looked over the mounds of books in the center of the table and stared at Angel.

He still determinedly flipped through page after page in a pagan codex.

"Angel?" Wesley tried. "Angel?"

Angel looked up unexpectedly. "What?"

"We're taking a break now,"

"Oh."

"We're going to get something to eat."

"Okay, sure," He looked back down at the book, quickly skimming through a page and then turning to the next once again.

"Angel," Wesley repeated, slowly, as if he were speaking to a child. Angel looked up unpretentiously. Wesley smiled. "Perhaps you should get something to eat too."

"No," Angel shook his head. "I'm fine."

"Angel…you'll need your strength if we can't stop this by nightfall."

"Yes, we'll all need our strength," Giles agreed. "You should take a break and feed."

Angel hesitated before setting the book down.

"Okay. You're right."

"We should order a pizza," Gunn yawned. "A big, fat one with everything on it." He glanced at Wes.

"That does sound appealing."

The yawn was contagious. It circled around them, all but Angel; who got up and headed groggily towards the kitchen; and then Gunn stood and stretched.

"I'll order." He looked at Giles. "Hey, G-man, is everything on it okay with you?" Giles stared blankly lost in thought. Gunn cocked his head to the side. "Yo…G-man…" He tried again. "Hey, GILES!"

"HUH?" Giles jumped. "Oh, were you talking to me? I'm sorry…what was that again?" 

Gunn grinned. "Do you like everything on your pizza?"

"Oh," Giles smiled tiredly. "Yes, that's quite all right with me..."

"Cool." Gunn went over to the lobby counter, and picking up the phone, started to dial. Giles pushed himself away from the pile of books and got up to stretch his legs. Wesley sighed again, for the umpteenth time, and then slowly rose to check on Angel.

Wesley walked through the kitchen entrance only to find Angel standing before the open refrigerator, leaning against the door, and staring into it lost in deep concentration.

"Angel? Are you okay?"

Angel looked up. "Huh? Yeah..."

Wesley didn't believe him. Angel quickly closed the refrigerator door, and came over to where he stood.

"We're short on supplies." He stated. "I'm going to run out. Pick up a few things. I'll be back in a couple of hours. Please, keep looking for something…anything. Anything useful at all." He started to move past him.

"Where are you going?"

Angel didn't answer, but Wesley caught his arm.

"Angel?"

He turned to look at his friend. "We need blood. She's going to want blood. I'll be back in a couple of hours."

Wesley let his hand drop, and Angel left, crossing to the back of the lobby and exiting through the basement; deciding on using sewer access to get where he needed to go in the still waning light of day. Wesley came back out of the kitchen and went back to the books.

Angel finally arrived back, walking in through the basement door, carrying three large brown paper grocery bags. Giles and Wesley looked up from their chairs at the table. They looked absolutely haggard, and Angel felt bad. He crossed the room, setting the bags down on the table, then noticed the absence of their third.

"Where's Gunn?" He asked quietly.

Wesley pointed over to a collection of plush sofas in the opposite corner of the lobby. Gunn was passed out cold, occasionally snoring ever so slightly with the empty pizza box beside him.

"He fell asleep." Wes explained.

"Oh. Well…get him up. There's no use in reading anymore, the suns going down in about two hours, and we're almost out of time. But we do have other things to do." 

Wesley did as he was told. He walked over and shook awake his friend. Gunn rose sleepily, the pizza box sliding to the floor as he swung his legs over the side of the sofa. Rubbing his eyes, he followed Wesley back over to the table.

"Sorry, Gunn," Angel said quietly. "I know you're exhausted,"

"No sweat, man, we've got work to do." Gunn replied lightly, but his fatigue was obvious. He shook it off and smiled despite it.

Giles looked quizzically down at the bags. Angel reached into one and started removing, of all things, hardware; chains, padlocks, screws, a drill...

"We need to fortify this place," Angel explained while Wesley dipped into the other bags to find a large supply of blood, sealed in glass jars and straight from the butcher's. He gave Angel a sideways glance, and Angel said, "She's going to be hungry. It's too late in the day to go to the blood bank, and I don't want her consuming human blood…not while she's still a demon."

"You know, if we can't cure her, we can't restrain her forever," Giles looked at him gravely. 

"We wont," Angel said simply. "If she can't be saved…then I'll deal with it. Human or not… Either way, I wont let her suffer." Gunn gave him a hard look. Angel looked down. "I'm sure we can save her though."

"That's a good attitude," Gunn said.

"It's what we have to face." Angel looked back to the hardware and went on. "We need to make sure she can't get out…and that no one can get in. Lindsey's still out there… At dusk he'll awaken, and who knows what he might do." Angel looked down sadly at the padlock in his grasp. "He murdered Cordelia. He tried to turn her to get back at me. He's capable of anything. He might come back for her."

"He doesn't know Cordelia will awaken," Wesley pointed out. "After he ran out, he doesn't know what you did."

"I know," Angel sighed. "But I don't want to take any chances. I'd tell you all to stay away, but the truth is…" He looked appreciatively toward his companions. "I…well, I need _you_." 

"We wouldn't leave if you made us," Wesley said, offering a small smile. A look of understanding passed between them.

"I do want the three of you out of here for tonight," Angel quickly clarified. "At nightfall, you all leave. Giles, you can stay with Wes or Gunn, I'm sure,"

"You can stay with me," Wesley confirmed. Giles thanked him quietly. Angel nodded in appreciation to the younger watcher.

"Tonight, rest." He said. "Try to forget about things. Try to sleep. Then in the morning, return…and we'll finish this."

"We will finish this." Gunn reiterated confidently.

Wes took a deep breath and frowned. "We will."

The three of them stared at Giles. Gunn asked first,

"What do you say, Giles? Are we gonna finish this?"

Giles crossed his arms. "Yes…yes, we will."

They secured the hotel. 

Wesley and Giles took care of the ground floor, locking windows and doors, and relieving every possible exit or entrance; the one way in and out through the door to the parking garage, which they very securely set with an installed deadbolt. Inside or out, you needed a key to unlock it, and Wesley very carefully hid that key in his shirt pocket. 

Gunn helped Angel barricade his floor, and once they finished there, they took to his room, installing multiple locks on the door and creating a vampire safe atmosphere.

"What do you think?" Angel asked, packing away their equipment. Gunn looked around, satisfied.

"It's one giant nursery. Too bad we can't just stick the newborn in a crib and wait for her to grow up."

"It's secure?"

"It should hold…"

"Good. Now go. Get out. Take Wesley and Giles with you. Lock the door behind me, and don't open it again until I tell you to."

"Sure, man." Gunn picked up the bag and he and Angel walked to the door.

"And tomorrow, before you come, can you stop by her apartment? Pick up some clothes, and let Dennis know what's going on?"

"Sure thing."

"Thanks."

Both of them looked back at Cordelia, lying still on the bed. Gunn clapped Angel on the shoulder. Looking him in the eye, he said, "You have a long night ahead of you…I don't envy you." Angel nodded. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

"You know where to reach us…"

"I do."

"Okay, later, man."

With a final nod, Angel closed the door quietly behind him. He listened, waiting until Gunn had securely snapped all locks into place. Her waited for the outer deadbolt to click, and then listened as Gunn's footsteps trailed away, leaving them completely alone, and disappearing down the hallway. 

Then Angel turned to face Cordelia, an impulsive anxiousness building within him. It was almost carnal; the same feeling all sires got when their childe was about to rise. Angel moved over to a chair, and sitting down, waited silently in the dark for her time to come.

He had felt the sun go down nearly an hour ago, and with nightfall, his assurance became absolute. She still hadn't moved…but she would. He could feel it. Just when he let his mind start to wander away from the image of her cold, dormant body, she twitched.

Angel froze, watching intently as her fingers moved first, then, eyes still closed, her head. She moved it from side to side, shivering slightly as if she were stuck in the midst of a dream…or a nightmare. Angel felt his own hunger growing as hers did in death. It was something a sire shared with his childe; creating the bond that would bind for eternity. He watched and waited, as still as a statue, hidden by shadow as the newborn became unleashed.

As she started to wake, she didn't recognize herself at all. She felt so empty and void, yet, so completely…energized. She couldn't remember ever feeling this way before.

She felt herself ascending from a dark place; confusion and fear clouding her, and a sudden burning deep within her limbs. She felt herself become something; materializing from complete nothingness, and not recognizing what she so frightfully craved.

And then her mind, fresh from oblivion, was now invaded with a meshing of images. And she felt herself screaming out in panic; crying out in desperation; as the lingering feelings she had in death now began to infect her in unlife. 

It thoroughly frightened her. _Oh, she was so afraid…_

Cordelia sat up with a feral scream. She clawed at the air, and at an attacker, absent from flesh but all too real in her mind. She struggled. She screamed. She cried and pleaded. She didn't know where she was, or what she was, or what she was becoming.

Angel watched her from a distance, quelling his every impulse to go to her and reach out to her. Not yet… No, he couldn't yet…

She fell out of bed and landed on the floor, scrambling to the wall and then crouched in the corner. She panted like a frightened animal; wailing horribly, and calling, begging, to anyone for help. Angel had to remind himself that she was just an animal, and that he needed to wait… 

He wouldn't touch her until she embraced her becoming.

She squeezed her eyes closed, covering her face with her hands. Her body shook and shuddered, desperately trying to hold onto the soul that was fleeting it. It hurt. It was the most disparaging feeling she'd ever endured, and she could do nothing to make it stop but wait for it to end. She felt herself spiraling, in which direction she couldn't tell. It didn't matter anyway… 

She'd been damned.

Slowly, she quieted, as the body she encompassed finally agreed to release her soul in surrender. His heart breaking at her every tremble, now Angel came forth, and crawling down to his hands and knees, he reached out to her.

"Cordelia?" He called softly. She didn't hear him. 

She kept her eyes closed, withdrawing into herself, rocking slightly in incomprehension. Angel swallowed, his throat dry. "Cordelia." He said more firmly. "Cordelia, it's Angel, open your eyes." She flinched at his voice, and turned her face towards him but hesitated. Angel came closer and attempted to touch her, but she hissed and twisted away, her chest heaving as she forced her breath.

Angel recognized the involuntary action. He understood she didn't realize yet what she now was. Her mind didn't realize that its body was dead, and it was still trying to function the way it had in life. Angel thought of Drusilla's becoming, and how similarly she'd reacted…_only he'd driven her insane first_… Each vampire awakened in a different way with different instincts and different impulses. Cordelia's had been fear; the same way that she had died. But no matter how they awoke, they all succumbed to their hunger, and Angel knew Cordelia would be no different. 

He pushed the thought away.

Growling impatiently, he reached out and grabbed her arm, hissing her name and demanding she open her eyes and look up at him. He'd expected her to push away, but to his surprise she didn't. Her lashes fluttered open, and with large, wild, hazel eyes, she looked up into his face and, lips trembling, whispered,

"Angel?"

His softened at the sound of her voice.

"Yeah, Cordelia…it's me."

"Where—where am I?"

"You're safe."

"But what—" She started to glance around, and her voice rose. "What's going on…where am I?"

"The hotel," He answered, trying to keep her eyes on his. 

Her eyes darted nervously; tears spilling out, though she didn't weep. Her head bounced, her chin length hair swaying as she surveyed her surroundings uncertainly. He reached out and cupped her chin, trying to still her, and keep her focused on his presence. 

"What happened?" She repeated.

"Do you remember anything?"

She looked at him in confusion. "No! No, I don't!" She looked away again.

"Come on, Cordelia," Angel said, pulling her face back towards him. "Try…"

She paused hesitantly, thinking back. But she couldn't think. Something was upsetting her…something _odd_… She glanced around again and realized she was seeing things, there in the dark, that she shouldn't have been able to see. It was nearly pitch black in the hotel room, yet, Cordelia could see as if it were dusk.

She glanced at Angel, waiting patiently before her, and pressed herself back against the wall.

She could smell him.

No, not smell…_taste_. She could taste him on the air.

She gulped, looking past him and then at him, then past him, then at him again; growing more and more confused as she became aware of her awakening senses.

She suddenly noticed a buzzing noise. _Bees?_ It grew to a crackling…_fire crackling, burning on a spit?_ And then it grew…louder…louder…into a reverberating racket…insatiably invading her head, and not giving her a moment's peace.

"What is it!" She demanded breathlessly, eyes searching the dark wildly as the sound filled the room. She glared at the ceiling and walls.

"What?" Angel asked suspiciously, cocking his head to the side and following her eyes with his.

"That noise." She covered her ears.

"What noise?"

"You don't hear it?"

"No…what is it?"

"You don't hear it?" She panicked. "Angel, you don't HEAR IT???"

"What Cordelia?" He asked, dumbfounded. To him, the hotel was completely silent. Cordelia shook her head.

"THAT!" She screamed. "That horrible noise!" 

Angel listened, but for the life of him, couldn't understand what she was talking about.

"ITS HORRIBLE!" She cried. "MAKE IT STOP!"

"Describe it, Cordelia!" She didn't answer and he shook her. "DESCRIBE IT."

"It's—it's—it's so loud! It sounds like…the wind! Like lightening on the wind! Like plastic! Like a plastic bag!…"

_'A plastic bag?'_ Angel thought, and then suddenly realizing what she was talking about, took her face in his hands. "Cordelia!" He said, holding her still. She continued to cover her ears. "Cordelia! Look at me!" He had to grip her arms and shove them away from her ears. "You hear electricity!" He told her. "You hear it in the wires in the walls! Ignore it and it will fade. Ignore it and it will go away."

She stared at him in disbelief but then realized what he said was true. The grating sound immediately relinquished itself when she stopped focusing her attention on it. It dulled immensely, and when she caught it growing louder again, she quickly imagined it as a little noise…and then it was. It never totally left her; it was still there, humming in her inner ear, and she found it impossible to completely disregard. 

She suddenly realized so many little noises, all nagging at her, all begging for her attention. She started to cover her ears again, but Angel wouldn't let her. She thought she was going to go crazy.

"Cordelia…listen to me. You have very sensitive senses…you must learn to control them. Don't be afraid,"

She was bereft.

"Cordelia, I'm here, don't worry, I wont let anything happen to you. You have to trust me…okay? Cordelia? Do you trust me?" Looking up at him with wide, innocent eyes, she shakily nodded her head. Angel sighed in amazement, lowering his eyes for a second, wondering if maybe she hadn't left him completely… Maybe she wasn't really gone…_maybe because he had had a soul…_

But he didn't get a chance to finish that thought.

She suddenly propelled herself into his arms, and closed her eyes again, breathing hard.

"Cordelia, stop. Cordelia," Angel reared back but she clung tighter. He frowned, his arms loosely around her. She buried her face into his shoulder and clutched at him, afraid to let go. Slowly, Angel slid his hands up her back. He swallowed hard, and against a nagging feeling at the back of his mind, trusted her to let him hold her. Slowly, he started to rock her, and she seemed to relax.

He stroked the skin of her back, just above where her clothing stopped. He listened as her breathing grew shallowed; her body tired and wearing down with its effort. He waited while her tense muscles expanded and softened. He closed his own eyes as his relief washed over him; glad that she was clutching to him and not pushing him away, and praying the rest of her transformation would prove even less grueling. So far, she'd been everything he hadn't expected.

Cordelia felt herself grow calm in his arms. She languished the familiarity he gave her, as nothing else seemed recognizable anymore. She listened to herself breath, her lungs taking in less and less air each time, and amazingly she found because she didn't need it. She ceased to breath, and yet, she continued to thrive. 

As she inhaled one last time, she tasted him again. And that caused something deep within her to shift. She felt another maddening sensation overwhelming her, and she opened her eyes, her lids heavy and eyes glazed. Sighing against him, she closed them again, and when she opened them once more, they burned with golden fire. She nuzzled her nose against his collarbone, and before he knew what was happening, she bit into him.

Angel shoved her off, and scuttled back, his fingers touching his shoulder and coming away with slick blood. Cordelia hit the wall, and rolled to the floor. She reared back, her face twisted and changed and revealing her true form.

Angel's heart fell. She'd truly lost her soul.

Angel grimaced as she crossed the floor at him again. He punched her hard, and she flew against the bed. By now he was on his feet, as was Cordelia, but he was quicker, and before she could fully rise, he batted her down once more.

"I'm hungry!" She wailed, still reaching for him.

In a rage, he slammed his fist into her once again. She rocked back, falling against the mattress, and lay curled in a daze. He glared down at her, touching his shoulder once again, and then licked his fingers; understanding all too well what it was she craved.

He paced the floor steadily, trying to control his anger, and Cordelia started to cry. She buried her face into his pillow and smothered a wrenching sob. Angel stood back, listening to her grief. He wiped the sweat from his mouth and turned his back on her.

He went quickly into the adjoining bathroom where he'd stored away the butcher's blood in a box beneath the sink. He tore quickly into it, removing one of the jars and breaking its seal. He twisted off the cap and flung it aside as he walked back int the bedroom and towards the bed where she lay.

Cordelia had started to sit up, wiping her cheeks, her face once again human and her eyes in total despair. He stalked up to her and grabbed her chin. She squealed, fighting his hand, but he dug his fingers in. He yanked her chin forward, forcing open her mouth, and very forcibly, poured the animal blood down her throat.

Cordelia gasped and shoved him away. She spit what she hadn't swallowed out in a hiss, and then, the fluid spilling down her front, recoiled sharply.

"Drink it," He growled, coming towards her again. She darted back, clutching her stomach and holding up her hand to fend him off.

"Its cold!" She screamed.

"It's what you need!" He retorted, still coming. Again he grabbed her face, but this time she struggled and clawed, successfully shoving the detested jar out of his hand. It splashed across his chest in a deep red surge and fell to the floor, staining the carpet in a deep, dark black pool.

"It's disgusting!" She screamed. "I want something warm!"

"You can't have something warm!"

"Then I want something fresh! Please don't make me drink that!"

"That's all there is!"

"There's you! I want you! Why can't I have you!" She reached towards him and he shoved her away. "Angel! Let me taste you! Please! I want to taste you!"

"You already did that," He bit, rubbing his fingers over the sore, healing punctures in his shoulder. He glared down at the holes in his soaked shirt, then glared back at her as he stood over her. She wiped her mouth, then leaned forward eagerly, eyes pleading, and hands begging as she tried to touch him.

"I'm so sorry! Please! Let me taste you! I promise I wont drink too much…please! If you just let me taste you, I swear! I'll drink that filth! I'll do whatever you want! Please, Angel! Please! I need something fresh!"

He smacked her hand away as it reached for his pant leg. Her other shot up and grabbed the hem of his shirt. He tried grabbing her wrist, and forcing her to let go, but she wouldn't. Then her other hand clamped into the fabric just above his waist and she started pulling herself up his body. He grit his teeth as he tried again to force her off, but she was too persistent. She reached his collar and clung to him; staring up at his face, biting down on her lip.

"Stop it," He demanded as she leaned against him; his hands gripping her wrists tight enough to break them. But she wouldn't give up her hold. She just smiled sumptuously and tried to press herself further against him. Angel tried again. "Cordelia! Stop it! I don't want to hurt you!"

"Just let me taste you!" She pleaded breathlessly.

He found himself staring into her eyes, watching her come closer and closer. Chewing her bottom lip, she clamped her teeth down, and breaking her own skin, smiled as bright red blood seeped out. 

Angel growled, smelling it, and she suddenly slipped her arms around his neck. She leaned forward and wiped her lip against his mouth, pulling away to leave a large red smear. And before he could stop himself, he ran his tongue out between his teeth, and sighed as he licked it off. His hands trailed lightly across her, finding their way around her back, and as she raked her teeth against the bare skin of his neck, he gave way to his arousal, and clamping his fingers together, lifted her against him.

With a snarl and a change, she bit into him again with a tender fierceness that drove pins up his spine, and he groaned.

Reeling, he spun around and dropped himself back on his bed with her on top of him. Her jaws locked down and she sucked steadily. His head lolled back against the pillows, his body on fire and wanting more.

Angel started to swirl. His eyes fluttered closed and he curled into her, pressing her to suck harder… 

_It was ecstasy._

He moved away slightly, and with a snap, she pulled him back. He found his mind starting to drift, and when he tried to right himself, he started to feel drunk.

She started to drink greedily, and it started to hurt more than he could bear. He opened his eyes, the room spinning around them, and his hands went to her throat. With a pained effort, he tightened his fingers, and she started to choke. Finally her jaws came loose and he forced her back, her body rolling off of his.

She lay still; her neck muscles convulsing. But she smiled. She closed her eyes, high, and flying on another world as his power seeped through her. She attempted to move, but found she didn't have control of her limbs anymore, and languishing herself against his silk sheets, she didn't care. Her leg stay entangled with his, but he didn't do anything to move it. 

He was too busy swimming on his own high.

He hadn't done that in so very long… He'd forgotten how intoxicating it could be. His body pulsed with the insatiable heat she had caused in him. He lay quivering, and closing his eyes, he felt himself run away. A few minutes later he came to to the sound of her purring. He rose up wearily on one elbow, looking over at the creature beside him. Cordelia lay curled in a ball; her face eerily peaceful, a wide smile across her features, and her body lost in a dazed sleep.

He couldn't help himself. He laid a hand against the inviting softness of her skin, and moved it over her back, down her side and across her stomach.

She was burning hot. 

He swallowed hard and looked her up and down, too tired to comprehend… _What had he done? What had he been thinking? _He removed his hand, sighing as he looked at the ceiling. He felt so weak… 

He collapsed back against the pillows, and closing his eyes, past out again.

   [1]: mailto:rachelpeek@excite.com



	3. Behaviour

**:: Rise ::**

By [Rachel][1]

:: Rated R ::

Strong violence, blood, and a little bit of swearing.

Takes place anytime after Epiphany. Reflects scenarios back to BtVs.

Distribute wherever! And I appreciate feedback.

** **

Angel came to with a smothering weight upon his chest. His head was still spinning, but he quickly became aware of the sharp, burning sting slicing deeper and deeper into the skin beneath his chin.

"W-Wake up," A voice faltered angrily in the darkness. "Wake. Up. Now."

His eyes fluttered open.

He met Cordelia's eyes, wide with tears. His vision focusedand he was staring up into her face, wrought in angst and apprehension and marred by lips stained in dry blood, partially hidden by the dark chin-length veil of her hair.

Her body shivered as if it were cold. He knew though that she was not. The trembling in her fingers became violent as they clutched the raw, cold edge of a sharp and intimidating piece of glass from the now shattered mirror in the adjoining bathroom andshe pressed it to his throat with both hands; bearing down just enough that if he were to make a single movement or attempt to overthrow her, it would slice deep, causing surely irreversible damage. Perhaps unhealable. And perhaps, if she really meant to, beheading him.

Angel felt his arms pinned beneath her legs.

"I'm awake," He whispered carefully.

Her eyes narrowed and he could almost feel the pressure transcend into his own body as she grit her teeth, lips trembling as if she were about to erupt into hysterics. She leaned down so that her face was nearly touching his, their noses millimeters apart, and her hair gracing his skin as it fell forward against his temple. Hot tears trickled onto his cheek as they fell from her eyes, but Angel didn't move.

"I—I couldn't see myself, Angel," She swore in a harsh whisper. "I looked in the mirror and I couldn't see myself."

"That's because you're dead."

Angel grunted as glass was pushed farther into his skin. She started to shake her head.

"Don't say that!" She begged. "Please, don't say that!"

"It's true,"

"It's not true! Don't say that!"

"It's true, Cordelia…face it."

"Why!" She demanded. She began to shake, and against the broken, jagged glass, Angel finally hissed,

"Put down the glass!" 

She stared down into it; unable to see herself, able only to see the reflection of the ceiling above her…

"Put the glass down, Cordelia!" He repeated roughly, now straining to lift his arms, even against her resistance. Cordelia perched, poised over him, eyes blinking in denial as she waited to wake up from whatever nightmare it was she was having whilst she stared down into the empty reflection.

Finally feeling her grip on the weapon loosen, Angel took a chance and bucked her off of him. She spilled onto the bed beside him, dropping the glass, her eyes trailing it as if fell, almost in slow motion, to the floor. It cracked again with a resounding shriek, splintering into long, glistening shards, and Angel was on top of her now, pinning her hands above her head, forcing her into submission and making it clear he would snap her, if that's what it took, in two, and without any reverence at all. He growled. He defied her to fight back. She didn't move though; only stared at the glass.

Angel shook her angrily.

"What were you doing!" He demanded; her face finally turning up to look at his. "Answer me, huh!" He growled. "What were you doing!"

She stared obligatorily, watching him and saying nothing. She lay docile, defeated, or possibly…indifferent? Yielding to whatever punishment she was about to receive. Was it indifference? It didn't matter. He didn't trust her to let her be anymore, not after waking to a blade at his throat.

Angel was seething. He felt his nostrils flaring, yes, he was that pissed. Sweat beaded on his brow and he knew if he didn't calm himself right now, there was a probability he wouldn't have a chance to save her soul because he would have already killed her. Permanently. "What were you doing, Cordelia?" He asked, strained yet more calmly. His eyes still flickered, and his grip was tight. She cocked her head and stared up at him, wide-eyed. Angel lowered his voice. He asked her again, "What were you doing? Tell me the truth."

"I was going to kill you," She said softly, her bleakness nearly surprising him.

"Then why didn't you?" He spat coldly.

"Because…" She said, her words trailing off. She closed her eyes and let her head fall to the side. "I—I loved you…before…I feel it. And I—I…there's something…familiar…a need…"

"Need?"

"I…I need…you. I feel you…in me."

"You're bonded to me." He said.

She opened her eyes and looked back up at him. "Something like that…"

Angel's jaw tightened and after an intense moment he shoved her arms away and climbed off of her. Cordelia's head lolled to the side again and as she watched her sire pace the floor angrily, she felt weak.

Angel glared at her, lying on the bed. He circled the broken glass on the floor, his fingers going angrily to his chin and feeling the gash there that still leaked blood but was ardently starting to close. He flecked it away then lowered his hand to his side, where he clenched and unclenched an angry fist. He shook his head. He should've known better…

"You're only feeling the after effects of sharing blood. That's it. That's all. You only need me because of that bond…not for any other reason, least of all, sentimental," His words bit. He sounded…disappointed. "You're a demon! The only thing you really feel is murder and disease! All you'll do is kill! I should've put you down sooner, I shouldn't have given you a chance."

"Angel, no," Cordelia sat up, sniffling and wiping her hands over her face. "I know that we're…we're family,"

"We're not family! The only thing that binds us is the night. That's all,"

"No, Angel," She murmured. "We are family. We are. I—I have this feeling about you…like I can…trust you," Angel paused and glared at her. "…like I…like you…like I don't want to hurt you, like I need you,"

"You do need me." He sounded off. "But not for the reasons you think. Stop lying to yourself."

"I'm not lying. I feel like you'll take care of me…like you wont let me be…bad…"

Angel stopped pacing abruptly, raising his eyes to hers. "What do you mean?" He demanded.

"I—I don't want to be bad…but I will," She said finally. Cordelia looked away wearily, new tears welling up in her eyes. "I can feel this evil in me, Angel,I can feel it. And I—I want it! It feels right! But I don't understand, because I know its wrong…"

"You—you know?" Angel blinked. He came forward.

"I know…somehow, I know, its wrong! I don't understand," She said, her voice trembling again. "I woke up and I was sure I'd been dreaming! I woke up next to you and I tasted blood on my mouth, and it…ittasted GOOD. And I got so scared… I ran to the bathroom, and I looked in the mirror, and…and I…I wasn't…I wasn't there! Angel! I wasn't there! And I felt so empty!" She was getting near hysterics again. "And angry! I had all this anger! …And I smashed my fist into the mirror, and it shattered and I looked down at the glass and I still wasn't there and I picked it up! I picked it up and I cut myself, and I LIKED how that felt! And then I imagined killing you with it and it felt so good! And you were just lying there, and I was so confused… My mind was screaming not to but my body, god! My body wanted it so bad! I felt like—like…I don't know what I felt like! Hot…thirsty…I—I don't know! Like it would be so much fun…I could cause you so much pain…"

Angel stood silently before her, perpetually stumped.

"And what about now?" He asked quietly.

"I want to cut you open and see your insides."

Angel's brow furrowed. "And this is supposed to make me feel how?"

"But I also want you to hold me," She sighed, not hearing his comment androcking slightly on the bed. "I know something's wrong with me, but I don't understand what. I want you to tell me…I want you to tell me so I can fix it. I know I shouldn't be feeling this way. But every minute that goes by since I woke up makes me feel less and less… I can't explain it, but I can fix it, right? I can fix it."

"You can't fix it." Angel said regretfully. Cordelia watched him gravely. "You're a demon. You can't stop what you are."

"I—I'm a…vampire."

"You are."

"Like you."

"No…not like me."

"But you made me…"

"You're not like me. You don't have a soul."

"I might,"

"No. You don't."

"Are you sure? How can you be sure?"

"You don't, Cordelia."

"But…but…you made me, right?"

Angel slighted at her words.

"I can feel it, Angel. You made me, didn't you?"

"Yes…yes, I did."

"Why?"

"Because you were dying. I couldn't let you go."

"Then why aren't I like you? If you made me, I should be like you!" 

"You're not like me." Angel repeated. "You said it yourself, you feel empty."

"But I still want to be good! Like you. And you have a soul,"

"If you had a soul, you wouldn't feel empty." Angel crossed his arms and shook his head. "You don't have a soul. You don't have anything."

"You're wrong Angel, I have…I have something…"

"No. You have nothing, Cordelia…And you…you are nothing."

"I am something!" She said resentfully.

"No, you're not." Angel strained.

"But I belong to you," She pleaded.

"You don't belong to anything but hell."

"Then why do I have this need to please you?" Cordelia hissed. Angel's eyes widened a little. She had literally growled. She was staring up at him narrowly, rising on her haunches. Her body shifted defensively; her movement very hostile. Angel took a step back. "Angel, why do I need you, and why does it hurt me to look at you now?"

"I told you…we shared blood. I made you. Your need is carnal. It has nothing to do with real need."

She watched him closely in malice. She was on edge again. Wild. Angel's words hurt. He didn't believe her. She felt helpless to make him believe her, and a rage starting to boil beneath her surface. Angel thought she was about to attack him again, but then something happened and her face fell. 

Cordelia seemed to be genuinely contemplating his words. He could sense a struggle going on inside of her; where it came from he still wasn't sure. Her defenses fell away and he caught a glimpse of a scared little girl, and he was suddenly as lost in this as she was; his head telling him one thing, and his heart telling him another. He knew that no matter what, he couldn't trust her. No matter how sincere she seemed to be, he couldn't turn his back on her for a second, and he sure as hell couldn't trust her in his sleep. Now he wondered what she was thinking. From the look on her face, she was drowning. 

Her body had been taken over by the demon; that much he was sure. But apparently a small piece of Cordelia's heart was still clinging to her. It wasn't a soul, but it was something. It was there…but for how long, he couldn't wager. 

Right now she could go either way. Angel wouldn't let his hopes up, but he decided to try to push her. If he pushed hard enough, he might just get her to play along long enough for him to cure her. He took a leap of faith and stepped forward.

"Cordelia, we care about you." He searched her eyes, sensing her want, and for a brief, sweet moment, he witnessed a ghost of a smile behind her eyes. But it was just a moment and then it was gone, and the demon was there again. The demon was stronger.

"We think we might be able to help you…" He went on. "But it will be so much better if you let us. I—I really want to help you, I do. But I wont let you be a danger to anyone else."

"I feel so dangerous though. And I don't want to go through what you did." Cordelia shook her head.

"I know…but,"

"You suffer with your soul. I don't want to suffer."

"If you let me help you, you wont have to suffer long…"

"I'm getting hungry again, Angel." She said dryly. "The hunger is what's dangerous. Can you stop my hunger?"

"No." Angel said truthfully. "But I can suppress it." He took another step forward and reached out, touching her hair. She watched him with soulless eyes.

"I need to know Cordelia. Will you let me help you?" His hand lingered near her cheek before tracing a strand of hair down to caress her chin. Cordelia looked away quickly. She was calm. Serene. But still completely treacherous.

Then she looked up at him adamantly, and closing her eyes, made the effort to ignore her hunger. Something inside of her, she didn't know if it was her brain or her heart…or even if she still had a heart…something inside of her told her to trust him, to try. It was a nuisance, against her nature, but it was enough to make her curious. 

Angel waited anxiously…she could smell his fear in the air. Was she really bad? Was she really that bad? She knew she was. But something made her not want to be. Her past was starting to slowly roll in on top of her. She remembered what she used to be, what she used to have, what she had now, and what she could have, and it all completely perplexed her.

She slowly opened her eyes and gazing up at him, said,

"Well…can you fix it?"

"Drink some more," Angel said gently, holding the jar to her lips. Cordelia nearly gagged and twisted her head away.

"No! No more,"

"Cordelia, you have to,"

"Oh…" She nearly whined. She closed her eyes tightly, but opened her lips in acceptance and reluctantly drank down the awful tasting blood he was feeding her. He fed her consistently, like a mother giving a child their medication, and wouldn't adhere to her whimpering and moaning as she begged for no more. She swallowed reluctantly, forcing it down again and again. She clutched her knees to her chest as she sat back against the headboard of the bed with a blanket pulled up over her. Angel sat in front of her, the hated box of pig's blood or cattle's blood or whatever kind of horrid tasting animal blood sealed in the butcher's jars beside him. A small pile of empty bottles sat on the floor next to the bed; a true sign of her struggle to please him.

He was stuffing her full; trying to quell the urge for human blood before morning came and their friends returned. Angel felt the night…it was after four AM. A couple more hours, and the sun would rise.

"A little more," Angel promised, tossing the now empty jar aside and taking out another.

"You said that on the last one," Cordelia groaned, wiping her mouth. She was sick from it. She felt like she would regurgitate every last ounce of it if she tried to put one more in her.

"I know, I'm sorry, I just want to be sure…"

"Well, be sure already! I think I'm gonna puke!"

"You're not going to puke," Angel said surely. "Here, have another."

Cordelia scowled, but leaned her head forward and pressed her lips again to yet another jar anyway.

Whatever he was trying to do was working. Cordelia couldn't think of anything but that room-temperature slime riding down her throat. Its coppery aftertaste was starting to repulse her. And all she wanted right now was a bit of mercy, for Angel to leave her alone and to stop force feeding her so she could curl up in a ball and forget the whole thing until her body could digest it all and she was no longer in danger of popping. She looked up and eyed him.

No, she could expect no mercy from Angel.

Before her turning she could usually just bat her eyelashes and whine a little and he was putty in her hands. But now…

Cordelia caught herself thinking of herself in the past tense and found it strange. She lost herself in the thought for a moment, before sighing and thinking back to the blood. She swallowed another gulp.

It had almost started to taste good. After the second or third jar, she felt it in her veins and it was almost satisfying. But then after the fourth or fifth jar, she again realized how low end it all was. She recalled how much more satisfying Angel's blood had tasted and then she looked at him and realized his power over her. He was telling her to drink, and she was. And that satisfied her more than anything, knowing she was doing what he wanted her to do. Not that she was a mindless zombie…but she had this urge to please him. It had to have something to do with the trust thing. If he'd had told her to drink a rat dry, she would have. If he'd had told her kill a human, she would have. And so it was mindless, but it felt so simple. And simple made it easier. It had nothing to do with being good or evil. It had to do with what her sire wanted. It just so happened that he was good…

"I don't think I can take anymore," She said, finally pulling away and almost belching. Angel started to push the jar back into her face but then glanced at the pile of jars on the floor and let it go.

"Okay…I guess you've had enough."

"Yeah…" She said bitterly, following his eyes to the mess below. "I lost count after the sixth or seventh go around."

"Fifteen," He said. She looked shocked. "You drank nearly fifteen jars. I think that should suffice." He held up the last of the current jar and without hesitation, choked down the rest of it himself then tossed it to the floor with the other remains. Cordelia grimaced and looked away. "Are you sick of it?" He asked. She nodded. "Good. That's the idea."

"I don't think I'll be able to eat for days."

"Even better."

He stood and she watched him and he quickly cleaned up the mess. He took the box back into the other room and stored away the rest of the blood for another night. Cordelia sat making faces at herself, trying to rid her mouth of the awful aftertaste. She looked for something to preoccupy herself with, and ended up twirling her finger in her hair. Angel came back around the corner and paused to watch her. Some things just never changed…

Besides the healing bite wound on her neck, and the various yellowing bruises already disappearing from her otherwise perfect skin, Cordelia looked the same as she always had, less the perfect hair and makeup that is. Right now, she looked pretty weary. And her make up had long since been cried off. But she still embodied Cordelia Chase. She still did little things that hinted at what had made her her. The things that had made her human in life.

Like twirling her hair. And whining. And pouting. And the raising of the eyebrows when she didn't agree with something…

She'd raised her brow tonight when he'd brought out the box of butcher's blood and made the decision that she should over-feed. That simple expression had almost been enough to convince him that she was still here. But when she'd started to drink, skeptically at first, and then greedily, he got past it. Very quickly. And thereon, accepted what she was. Angel crossed the room towards her now.

"Cordelia?"

"Hmn?" She mumbled, not looking up.

"Promise me something," He sat down on the edge of the bed. She dropped her finger from her hair and sat quietly. "Promise me that you wont hurt anyone." He knew he couldn't hold her to it, but still, if just for the sake of hearing her say she would, he wanted to hear it, perhaps, needed to… "Promise me you wont ever hurt another living soul."

Cordelia stared at him blankly.

"I promise, Angel."

He sighed and looked away. He knew it wasn't a promise she could keep.

He cleaned up the glass and changed his shirt.

The bite on his shoulder was closed and the gash in his chin was scabbed over. By tomorrow afternoon, both marks would probably be gone. Well, the gash for sure.

Cordelia lay in bed staring out into space. He came over and tucked her in. Her eyes drifted up to his before falling back to the opposite wall. She looked exhausted.

Angel felt morning coming. He, too, was exhausted. He'd lost count of how many hours he'd been awake, and by now, it didn't matter. There was no point in thinking about it; he couldn't sleep until he could get safely out of this room. And that wouldn't be happening until Wes, Gunn and Giles came back. Angel caught himself praying it'd be soon.

He retired to his chair, watching Cordelia as she drifted off into a deep, still sleep. Weak light began to infiltrate the edges of the heavy drapes at the lone window against the far wall and Angel stared at it for a long time as it slowly, eventually grew stronger. Just as he started to loose his battle against the morning hour, and his eyelids sank to close, he heard footsteps outside the door.

"Angel?" 

Gunn's muffled voice was heaven sent.

"Yeah," Angel said drowsily, leaning against the doorframe and closing his eyes.

"You okay? It safe to unlock the door?"

"Yeah," Angel sighed. "Its safe, get me out of here."

He stepped to the side as he heard the locks click. He glanced back at Cordelia, wanting badly just to crawl into bed beside her and sleep the day away. He rubbed his tired eyes and the door creaked open, ever so slowly, and Charles Gunn peaked through.

"What happened?" He asked cautiously, giving the vamp the once over.

Angel sighed and shrugged. Gunn looked around anxiously, and caught sight of the sleeping beauty. His eyes widened slightly and he started to step further into the room. Angel placed a firm hand against his chest and pushed him back out. Gunn gave him an annoyed expression, but Angel shook his head. He stepped out into the hall, pushing Gunn back farther, then pulled the door closed behind them.

"You don't want to go in there," Angel warned wearily.

"Is she alright?" Gunn demanded.

Angel looked sorely back at the closed door.

"As alright as she can be,"

"What's the word?"

Angel raised his gaze to meet the young black man's and Gunn took notice of the wound on his chin.

"She do that?"

Angel nodded. Gunn inhaled a hiss of a breath. "Is she bad?"

Angel closed his eyes, and nodded again.

"Damn!" Gunn cursed, turning around and kicking the bags next to the door. He looked down at the floor, one hand on his hip, the other rubbing his mouth in serious distress. He said nothing, but shook his head begrudgingly, and kicked the suitcases again.

"Those her things?" Angel asked, ignoring Gunn's slighted outburst.

"Yeah," Gunn nearly spat. He took a deep breath, calming himself. "I got her clothes, some shoes, makeup… Dennis helped me pack."

"How'd he take it?" Angel slumped back against the wall and folded his arms.

"Not good… Poor guy, I don't think he knew what to do. Stuff just started flying all over the place, and, if I knew him better, I might have said that he was frantic."

Angel closed his eyes, his head lolling back.

"You alright, man?" Gunn asked again, taking a step forward to take a good look at Angel's appearance. Angel nodded but didn't open his eyes. Gunn cocked his head at him and frowned. "You look like hell."

"Hell's a lot nastier than this," Angel murmured.

"How long you been awake, man?"

Angel shrugged indifferently.

"Yo, last night, we three went back to the office…boarded the place up. It's a wreck…" 

Angel had forgotten about the office. He made the effort to prop open his eyes.

Gunn continued. "…Wes and Giles got some more books. I think they worked on it all night. They should be here soon, though—Yo, man. You sure you okay?"

"I'll be fine…I need some sleep, a few hours…"

"You need a week looks more like it," Gunn walked in a half circle, inspecting the vamp's exterior. "Definitely a week…man, go to bed!"

"I need to…to…" Angel mumbled. "Gotta get some stuff, gotta…lock the door…"

"Dude, you ain't doing nothin, look at you! You're a MESS. I'll lock the door." Gunn started on the locks right away. "I'll put her stuff away, too, don't worry about it."

"Gunn, stay out of there," Angel's voice was light and useless. He started to pull away from the wall. "Don't go in there unless I'm with you…you have no idea of what she's like…"

Gunn stopped and stared at his former employer.

"No shit. The way you look, I'm not gonna touch her with a ten foot pole. Don't worry, big guy… I'm leaving maid duties to you. You can take care of her room. I was gonna put her stuff away downstairs in the lobby closet."

"Oh."

"Go on. Get some sleep. I'll wake you when the watcher twins get here."

"Okay…"

Angel turned slowly and walked down the hall. Gunn watched him, wobbling a bit as he reached the stairs and slowly started the descent down them. When Angel was out of earshot, Gunn turned back towards the closed door.

He took a deep breath and started bolting the locks. He paused though as the first one clicked into place, and after a second, he unclicked it. With a nervous exhale, his fingers went to the doorknob and not knowing why, he felt compelled to press open the door.

Silence.

Gunn peered around the door and watched anxiously. The light from the hallway illuminated her form as it spilled across the bed. Cordelia had not moved an inch. He pushed the door open wider with a creak and stood surveying the sleeping girl. She lay as still as she had yesterday in death, but there was something different about her now that only someone who knew her closely could see. Gunn followed his shadow, and took a careful step closer.

He watched her sideways, half way expecting her to wake up and say something Cordelia-ish…the other half of him feared her waking up and lunging at him with burning eyes and teeth as sharp as glass. For a split second, he saw his sister lying there.

Gunn hadn't realized it but he'd moved to the foot of the bed. His heart was racing and his skin started to bead with sweat. He realized he'd been holding his breath.

"Gunn."

He started and spun around, and found Angel standing in the doorway staring at him.

"I—I'm sorry," Gunn gulped, quickly remembering himself. "I don't know why…"

Angel said nothing but stood aside and let the young man out. Gunn quickly closed the door behind them, shielding them from the sleeping demon, and veiling her once again in still darkness. Gunn quickly locked the locks, securing the deadbolt and then wiped his brow. Angel held out his hand.

"Give me the key."

Gunn did what he said, and after handing Angel the shiny metal piece, apologized,

"Angel, I'm sorry,"

Angel shook his head and silenced him with a glance.

"I'm tired."

   [1]: mailto:rachelpeek@excite.com



End file.
